


Lessons in Ownership and Power

by prairiecrow



Series: Lessons in Humanity [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dom Steve, Dom Tony, Dom/sub, Dominance, Established Relationship, Forbidden Attraction, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, Loving Dominance, M/M, Oral Sex Through Clothing, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Stern Dominance, Sub Jarvis, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a unique situation all right, both stunningly direct and mind-bendingly complex — but what else could Steve Rogers have honestly expected, when Tony Stark was involved? Nothing, that's what, and later he would have to admit that he'd been a fool to expect things to be as straightforward between them as a simple grudge fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about three months after "The Avengers".

It was a unique situation all right, both stunningly direct and mind-bendingly complex — but what else could Steve Rogers have honestly expected, when Tony Stark was involved? Nothing, that's what, and later he would have to admit that he'd been a fool to expect things to be as straightforward between them as a simple grudge fuck. 

But this was now. Tony looked up from his drink as Steve stepped out of the elevator into the vast shadowed penthouse, and the golden glow of the table lamp behind him made his dark eyes shine with pooled radiance. "So," he said quietly, looking Steve up and down without haste, "we're really going to do this, huh?" 

Steve was used to stepping up and speaking up — he was Captain America, after all, the world's finest super-soldier and leader of the Avengers — but in the face of that gaze, running over his fully clothed body as if he were already naked and setting subtle fire to every square inch of him, he found all potential words turning to dust in his throat. So he simply nodded and managed to chop out a single affirmative: "Yeah." 

Tony's smile was slight but warm, and Steve found himself briefly unable to tear his gaze away from those lips: wry, narrow, but oh God they'd felt so lush under his own barely five hours earlier, when anger and frustration — " _If you take one more crazy risk like that I swear to God I'll"_ — had finally driven him to shove Tony up against a wall and Tony hadn't shoved back this time, no, he'd reached out and _pulled_ instead, and Steve had found himself being kissed for the first time in almost seventy years, kissed with answering strength and unmistakeable challenge, kissed in a way that had made the whole world turn savagely on its foundations. It felt like it lasted forever, but actually couldn't have lasted more than a couple of seconds before Tony had pushed him away and muttered "Later, penthouse, if you don't show up I'll assume you want to forget this ever happened," and then walked away as if he hadn't just been sucking Steve's tongue down his throat, leaving Steve staring after him with his mouth burning and his head spinning loud enough to be heard in France. 

He'd spent the past several hours engaged in a fierce internal battle with himself, because being attracted to another man wasn't right (even though he'd been feeling this magnetic draw between them for weeks now), it wasn't smart (even though the smart-aleck defiant contrary attitude was what made Tony so damned compelling in the first place), and most importantly it wasn't _him_ (even though it felt as natural as breathing, the way his body fired up whenever Tony gave him lip, the way he wanted to show Tony who was boss with his dick)… but, well, here he was. And there Tony was, sitting cross-legged on the end of the couch with that effortless casual elegance of his, dressed in gorgeous style and practically begging Steve to mess him up a little — or maybe a lot, oh yeah, look at the way he was running his tongue-tip over his lower lip, _definitely_ a lot. Steve's cock twitched in his khakis, his fists clenched reflexively, and he started forward, not entirely sure what he was going to do when he got there — 

— when out of the darker doorway to Tony's left another figure appeared, tall and slender, neatly blond, dressed in a dark blue business suit and carrying a drink on a small silver tray. The interruption stopped Steve in his tracks and jarred his attention away from Tony, but not before he saw Tony's smile turn into something closer to a smirk. 

"Good evening, Captain Rogers," Jarvis said politely. "I've taken the liberty of preparing you a Brandy Alexander. It _is_ your favourite, if I'm not mistaken…?" 

Steve nodded, again reflexively, and when Jarvis came toward him and offered the glass he took it, his tactical engine trying to figure out what the hell Tony's assistant was doing here at this moment and coming up with a complete blank. He was still mystified as Jarvis turned away and crossed to the couch, setting the now-empty tray on a side table… and even more perplexed when Jarvis, instead of requesting more orders or taking his leave, settled his hip on the low arm of the couch to Tony's right… 

… then utterly dumbfounded when Tony slid his right arm around Jarvis's waist to give it a quick squeeze, looked up at him affectionately, and commanded: "Down, J." Without a fraction of a second's hesitation Jarvis slid to his knees at Tony's feet, settling back on his heels, and when Tony smiled down at him and stroked his hair with a more tender murmur of "Good boy," Steve's brain stalled completely for a good two and a half seconds. 

When he finally managed to get his mouth to work again, another single word came out as a croak: "… What?" 

Tony, his gaze still locked with the blue eyes upturned to his, curved his right hand around the nape of Jarvis's neck. "You didn't know?" He looked up at Steve, and his smile turned mocking. "No, of course you didn't. You strike me as a pretty vanilla kind of guy. Well, here's the deal: he's mine, in every sense of the word, and we come as a set. If that's a problem, there's the door, and no hard feelings, huh?" 

Steve tried to make sense of that for another two seconds: _'Mine'? Because he used to be Tony's computer system? But that was four years ago… and what the hell's that supposed to mean, 'a set'?_ At last he had to admit: "I don't understand." 

"It _is_ kind of complicated," Tony said magnanimously (that contemptuous drawl that made Steve want to grab him by the back of the neck and teach him a little respect), "but basically he serves all my needs, including the sexual ones." He shifted his hold to cup Jarvis's left cheek and run his thumb lightly along the kneeling man's lower lip; Jarvis kissed it, his uplifted eyes unblinking and bright. "Which means he'll serve your needs too, if I tell him to. In any case, he's part of the equation if you decide you want to play with me —" Tony's gaze ran down Steve's torso, settling on his groin, where things were definitely sitting up and taking notice. "— which I strongly suspect you do, you gorgeous acme of American manhood, you!" 

The pieces were starting to fit together in Steve's frantically working brain. "He's… you're… together? In bed." 

Tony laughed low in his throat. "Gold star for you, Cap. Yes, he's my sub, I'm his Dom, and something tells me you'll give both of us a run for our money in the 'Shut up and take orders' department." There that tongue-tip was again, this time tracing his upper lip in a way that made the tip of Steve's dick swell and burn even hotter. "Truth be told, I've been looking forward to finding out which of us is the bigger top dog — pun definitely intended. So how about it, Stevie-boy? Think you're up to the challenge?" 

Steve didn't get the pun Tony had claimed he'd just made — but he got the rest of it just fine. He nodded toward the doorway Jarvis had entered through. "Is that your bedroom?" 

Tony glanced down as if suddenly bored and ran his fingers through Jarvis's close-cropped hair again, slowly, from temple to nape. "Sure is. What about it?" 

Having sex with a man was bad. Having sex with _two_ men was exponentially worse. Steve licked his lips in turn and felt the burn of dirty illicit lust settle red-hot in every nerve. "In there. Now. Both of you." 

Tony smirked, but his tone of voice toward Jarvis was gentle: "Go on, get undressed and get into bed. We'll be along in a minute — maybe."  

"Yes, Sir," Jarvis murmured submissively, and straightened gracefully. He wasn't even at the bedroom door by the time Tony had risen to his feet and walked right up to Steve, hands planted on his hips and grin cocky. 

Steve stared down at him, feeling his own breathing quicken. Tony's grin widened. "You think you can make me?" he said softly, bracing his feet a little wider apart in shameless challenge. "You think you've got what it takes to make _Tony Stark_ follow orders?" 

Deep in Steve's hindbrain, every single readout switched over into the red. 


	2. Chapter 2

Never taking his eyes off of Tony's smug smile, Steve tossed back his cocktail in two quick swallows. It was delicious, dark chocolate and bright nutmeg, and he briefly savoured the burn of alcohol on his tongue.  

"That," he said softly when he was finished, "is not a can of worms you want to open, Stark. Trust me." 

"Oh, really?" He looked Steve up and down again, slowly, and damned if Steve's clothes didn't actually hiss and smoke under the laser heat of that provocative gaze. "I beg to differ. We never did get around to going toe to toe for the World Championship title, did we? Although I can certainly understand why America's golden boy wouldn't want to get his clock cleaned by a little guy in a tin can." 

In Steve's hand the cocktail glass emitted a tiny warning creak. He whipped it away toward the windows before it shattered in his hand; the smash of its disintegration was dim and distant compared to the hum of conflicting power heating up the air between his body and Tony's. "Last warning," he said, no, he _growled_ , he _never_ growled, but Tony brought out something in him that had teeth. "Get in that bedroom, or I'll —" 

"Or?" Impossibly, he shifted even closer, close enough that the warmth of his breath, redolent of whiskey, struck Steve's lips and chin. "What? You'll throw me over your shoulder and carry me?" 

He licked his lips because dear God, Tony was close enough to _taste_. "Don't," he rasped, his fists clenching at his sides all over again because part of him, the good gentle part of him, didn't want this — this yearning, this dark hunger, this urge to seize and pin and fuck, this thing that Tony Stark not only awakened but was so eager to feed. "Tony, please —" 

Tony's grin turned feral. He reached out and down with his right hand to lay a firm shameless palm on the bulge in Steve's pants, and rubbed in a way that sent lusty fire shooting from the root of Steve's prick all the way up his spine. "Steve," he drawled, fearlessly mocking, " _please_ ," and something in Steve — his illusions, maybe — snapped and spilled seething red into every vein. His hands had wrapped around Tony's biceps hard enough to bruise before he was consciously aware of the impulse, and the way Tony's eyes widened — brilliant, ravenous, apprehensive — satisfied something deeper than the knowledge that he should stop this now, before things got completely out of control. 

Still — that knowledge was enough to make him halt on the razor's edge, gazing down into Tony's avid face and nearly pleading in truth: "Is this what you want? Are you _really_ sure?" 

The way Tony purred laughter was almost enough to pull him over the brink all on its own. "Oh, Stevie-boy…" His fingers closed fully around the thickness of Steve's erection and squeezed with wicked skill. "What'd' _you_ thi — _hey!_ " 

Steve ignored the cry of protest, if that's what it was: in his current position, head down and ass in the air, Tony wasn't in any condition to seriously resist. He did manage to gasp a smart-aleck quip — "Bit literal there, Old Man!" — as Steve carried him effortlessly into the bedroom, slung over one shoulder like a sack of mail; he even tried to struggle when Steve landed a smart swat on his buttocks, but the yelp he emitted — " _Ow_ , Jesus, Cap!" — sounded more like assent than denial to Steve's admitted biased ears. 

The bedroom was lit only by a tall angular metal lamp on each of the bedside tables, casting a warm pool of golden light on the broad and immensely comfortable-looking bed whose expensive dark red linens were already turned back over the foot. Steve scarcely noticed the details, including Jarvis on the far side of the bed (naked to the waist, standing up in the act of undoing his trousers, eyes wide as Steve came striding in with Tony well in hand): the only thing that mattered was where he was going to put his delightful burden, and the target zone was so obvious that he locked both hands around Tony's waist and threw him the last few feet onto the mattress without thinking twice. Tony landed hard on his back, the air driven from his lungs in a not-displeased grunt, and Steve moved to cover him, intending to pin the smaller man completely with his full weight — 

— but had barely gotten one knee onto the mattress when Jarvis lunged for the bedside table on his side of the bed, his right hand closing around the lamp and snatching it up with impressive speed for a non-combatant. He straightened, eyes fixed on Steve with an expression of icy calculation —  

" _Jarvis, no!_ " Tony's urgently snapped command caught Steve by surprise, making him pause mid-stride to re-evaluate the situation. Jarvis froze in place, still staring at Steve, his right fist knotted like iron around the makeshift weapon and every major muscle in his body coiled tight.  

 _He was going to attack me,_ Steve realized with a spasm of confusion that mostly put paid to lust: Jarvis knew Captain America's capabilities, and therefore that Steve would swat him away like an insect before he landed a single hit. But the hostility in that pale blue gaze was unmistakeable — Steve had seen similar intent too many times in Hydra agents looking to kill him to doubt for an instant that Jarvis had been about to come at him with everything he had.  

Tony, his neck craned to turn his face toward his former A.I., propped himself up on his left elbow and extended his free hand, speaking in a low tone of command: "Put that down and come here." Jarvis obeyed at once — not without a final cold glare at Steve — and when he had crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees, looking down into Tony's eyes from a position above and behind him, Tony held his gaze and reached up to curl his right hand around the back of Jarvis's neck again. "It's okay, he's not hurting me — he's not doing anything I don't want him to do." A glance at Steve, which Steve felt compelled to answer with a quick nod. Tony nodded in turn and looked up at Jarvis again, shifting his hand to caress that pale cheek. "See, baby? Everything's fine, understand?" 

After a moment Jarvis raised his eyes to Steve and studied him for a long moment; Steve found himself straightening slightly inside his leather jacket, trying not to look sheepish, because he felt like every iota of him was being inspected for fitness — and whether or not he deserved to be anywhere near Tony Stark. But at last Jarvis nodded. "Yes, Sir. I understand." 

"Good boy." Tony smiled at him and ran slow fingers back into his hair. "Now, listen carefully: full control to you, subject to my override." A pause as he stroked the blond's hair. Jarvis gazed down at him intently, unblinking. "Initiate slave protocols with the following modification: primary focus on me, secondary focus on Steve Rogers. Confirm." 

Jarvis's breath caught audibly in his throat, his gaze rising to Steve's face again, and there was something quite different in his eyes now, something hot and yielding that set gunpowder smouldering along Steve's every nerve all over again. "Confirmed," he whispered. 

Tony squeezed the nape of his neck, then nodded in Steve's direction. "Tell him what that means," he instructed gently, and leaned up to start kissing the pale line of Jarvis's extended throat. 

"That I shall obey his commands as well as your own," Jarvis murmured, his gaze unwavering while the small of his back hollowed eagerly as Tony nuzzled and kissed, "although your commands will always take precedence. And that I shall, so far as is possible, pleasure him in the process of pleasuring you." 

"That's right," Tony praised with a final bite to the large tendon in his throat, " _good_ boy, now get those pants off and get back on this bed, because I think we'd both appreciate a bit of tender loving care." 

"As you wish, Sir." 

"And you," Tony leered in Steve's direction as Jarvis slipped backwards off the mattress to obey, "I thought _you_ were in the process of trying to show me who's boss…?" 

The way he opened his thighs and rocked his hips was as clear an invitation as Steve could ever ask for. He glanced up at Jarvis, who was now skinning his pants and underwear down over his narrow hips to reveal a slim prick at full mast, then back at Tony, who was clearly equally hard inside his flashy black trousers. Two cocks, and Steve's mind was racing over every permutation of three bodies he could think of and _dear God_ , it didn't take a tactical genius to realize that all of them were red-hot and ferociously juicy. 

Tony's eyes flashed a challenge. He lay back, clasping both hands behind his head while feigning disinterest. "But hey, if you've decided the game's too rich for your blood, no harm no —" 

" _Hell_ no," Steve snarled — and pounced. 


	3. Chapter 3

Coming to grips with Tony felt even better than Steve had imagined: he was all compact muscle that had no chance of resisting Steve's enhanced strength, and a hot wet mouth framed by the thrilling rasp of his sartorial moustache and beard — _male_ , and the combined sensations made Steve's pulse drive even harder in spite of the voice in the back of his mind insisting that he was doing something sinful and disgusting and just plain _wrong_. Old conditioning, but deep, hammered into him in the early years of the twentieth century but apparently obsolete in the early twenty-first, when male beauty was everywhere and men held hands on the street and kissed in public without shame. It had been one of the hardest adjustments, to realize that the secret fleeting urges he'd always crushed as perverted lusts were not only accepted now in many quarters but actively celebrated in others.  

It wasn't like he preferred men over women. He didn't. But every so often a man came along whose voice or eyes or smile went to his core and set him on fire — two of them back in the forties, and Tony Stark in this decade. The soldiers in the forties had never suspected a thing, although Steve was pretty sure that the second would have been happy to find himself in a clinch with Captain America. But it had been out of the question — it wasn't allowed, it simply wasn't 'done'.  

Tony Stark was both too damned smart for his own good and lacking in all civilized inhibitions. He'd not only recognized the unspoken tone behind their frequent arguments, he'd done everything in his power to increase the volume and play a spirited counterpoint. And now, with Steve on top of him and aggressively pressing length to length from lips to knees, he wasn't just accepting it: he was dong his level best to get even closer, his rugged engineer's hands clutching and pulling, his mouth ravenous, his cock trying to burn a hole to Steve's through their still-fastened pants.  

It was a glorious few seconds of clinging and tonguing and rubbing pelvises, until Tony broke free long enough to gasp: "Roll over." Steve permitted the smaller man to guide him onto his left side, still locked together, but didn't yield when Tony's left hand slid down to his hip and gave a little push. "C'mon, get a little distance down there — give him room to work," and then Steve felt a third slender hand come to rest on his upper thigh and understood, in a flare of confusion and anticipation, exactly what Tony was getting at. Glancing up and around, he saw Jarvis leaning over them, that cerulean gaze fixed on their groins. He let Tony push him back about eight inches and Jarvis moved in at once, nuzzling and kissing at Tony's clothed cock, his left hand sliding up and in to close around Steve's as well. Tony purred against Steve's mouth, tightened his hold on Steve's shoulders to pull him deeper into their kiss, and shifted, rotating at the waist to present his dick for better servicing. Steve, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, followed suit and was rewarded with the pressure of ardent lips at the root of his cock and a slowly licking tongue up his length: even through the fabric of his khakis it felt like being branded, and he groaned softly, pulling Tony to him with a brief surge of greater strength. 

 _Careful, have to be careful, too much and I'll break him —_ But he held Tony hard anyway while Jarvis moved back and forth between them with his hands and his mouth, savouring the way Tony's clever hands slipped inside his leather jacket to get closer to his skin, managing to push Tony's dress jacket off without breaking contact for more than the bare minimum span of seconds necessary. He was a magnificent little handful, all hungry mouth and lusty wriggles and eager moans, and the things that Jarvis was doing even through two layers of clothing, dear God…! 

"You're gonna love this," Tony suddenly hissed into the hot thin space of air between them as he shifted his mouth to Steve's neck — kissing, licking, biting with a delicious edge of sharp white teeth. Steve could feel that his left hand was on Jarvis's head now, slowly petting, as the blond bestowed quick firm licks on the trapped head of Steve's shaft. "You ever had your dick sucked before, Cap?" 

"Yes," he retorted, but he blushed, because it had only been once, by a chorus girl in France whose name he hadn't even bothered to remember. 

Tony chuckled against the line of Steve's jaw. "Not like this," he promised. "We'll take real good care of you — Jarvis, double header. Open him up." 

"Very good, Sir," Jarvis murmured, and started taking care of the front of Steve's pants with swift efficiency. 

"Okay," Tony continued, "next question: you ever been with another man before?" 

Steve felt the flush on his cheeks deepen, and a combination of shame and lust and resentment tightened the grip of his hands on Tony's waist and left bicep. "Does it matter?" he tried to dodge. 

As soon as Jarvis had the button of Steve's pants undone Tony's left hand was slipping inside, closing around Steve's prick and oh _fuck_ , so warm and confident and knowing. "It does if I have to give you the talk about stretching and lube and all that other good stuff." 

"… No." It took him a second to answer because the pressure of Tony's hand through one thin layer of fabric really was that much better than through two, and then Jarvis was pulling down his khakis _and_ his boxers to mid-thigh and Tony's fingers didn't stop, just went to work with skin on skin and Steve's thighs quivered with white-hot electric reaction. "I mean, no, I haven't. With another man."

 Tony's laugh was low and gleeful against Steve's throat while he stroked slow and hot, and Jarvis's left hand was on Steve's balls, cupping and squeezing and sending waves of visceral pleasure flowing up his spine.  "Mmm, and you're a _big_ boy, aren't you? Tell me, does the serum give you a boost there as well?" 

"I…" _Get it together, Steve!_ But two hands working him over after having his cock worshipped through his clothes… it was perverse and filthy and all kinds of right, and it was temporarily short-circuiting his brain. "Come again?" 

Tony paused in licking along the line of his carotid artery to sigh with an undisguised edge of impatience. "Enhanced stamina?" he articulated with exaggerated clarity. "Extra orgasms? If we suck you off, can you get it up again?"

 "You bet," Steve affirmed — and then his brain caught up with what Tony was saying: "Wait, _we?_ " 

"That's what 'double header' means, Golden Boy: two mouths, no waiting." He leaned back to capture Steve's somewhat unfocussed gaze with intense brown eyes. "Unless you'd rather suck _me_ off instead, because I wouldn't say no to —" 

A surge of anger through the lust made Steve's right hand dart to the back of Tony's neck and lock tight, giving him a short sharp shake. "You think I'd _do_ something like that?" he grated out, and shook him again for emphasis. "I'm no whore, Stark — not like you." 

Tony's pupils dilated visibly, his breath coming a bit deeper and quicker, his lips parting for a seductive instant before he countered: "Whores get paid, and I'm not doing this for money." 

"No," Steve growled, "you're doing it because you can't keep it in your pants." 

"And who's to blame for that?" Tony grinned with infuriating good humour. "Hint: maybe the guy who shoved me up against a wall and stuck his tongue down my throat while the rest of the team was right around the corner?" 

Jarvis was kissing the back of Tony's hand: Steve's dick could feel the slight pressure of it through the plane of intervening flesh and bone. He tightened his grip on Tony's neck and pulled him even closer, hissing against his still-parted lips: "And you can't even keep it to yourself. A sex slave? God in Heaven, that's low, even for you." 

Tony's grin widened. He kept stroking, concentrating now on the swollen head. "J, tell the nice Captain why you're here, would you?" 

Jarvis's voice was soft but emphatic: "Because I love you, Sir. Because you created me, and it is my greatest pleasure to serve you in every way possible." 

His grip slid further down the shaft, slower and firmer. "Am I keeping you here?" 

"No, Sir." Another kiss, and a caressing stroke of his cheek against Tony's fingers, like a cat. "You've offered to set me free and to establish a life for me elsewhere on numerous occasions." 

"So you could leave any time you wanted?" 

His breath was warm against Steve's cockhead above the circle of Tony's grasp: "Yes, Sir. I choose to stay — for you." 

Tony's smile turned tender, his gaze shifting downward. "Daddy loves you too, baby," he said fondly, and Jarvis sighed sweetly as Tony raised his eyes to Steve's again. "I'll give you the 411 on Dom/sub dynamics later. Right now that's all you need to know, and —" 

Steve's heart flipped and soared oddly in his chest, because this was beyond unexpected: that Tony Stark, the most cynical individual Steve had ever encountered, a man who seemed to expend most of his energy in keeping the rest of the world at bay, had just used the word 'love' — and every instinct Steve possessed concurred that he'd meant it. This time when Steve's fingers tightened on Tony's nape it was not with anger or frustration or resentment, and he saw Tony register the change, saw the tender smile flash to smug in a split second. 

The impertinence was too much: Steve just had to try to kiss it off his face while swallowing the tangle of emotions in his own throat: later, he would deal with it later if it still mattered. When their mouths finally melted apart he licked his lips to cover the moment of confusion. "You said something about sucking my dick…?" 

Tony smirked with even more sleek self-satisfaction — and open challenge. "Yeah? What if I've changed my mind?" 

"Men like you never change their minds," Steve informed him in a gruff rasp, "not about that," and pushed Tony's head down with the irresistible force of command. 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony let himself be shoved down, but he went with a smirk and a quip: "Good thing for you I'm in the mood for a little cock, Cap, or else we'd be having words about this. Hey there, J — fancy meeting you here." 

"Sir," Jarvis responded, and then Tony was kissing him, letting go of Steve's prick to slip his fingers into the short blond hair at the base of Jarvis's skull. It was unhurried and tender and hot, and Steve could see surrender writ large in the way Jarvis's eyes drifted closed, his lips parting easily to admit Tony's probing tongue, the tongue that was about to be all over Steve's dick — but that kiss… it was captivating in an entirely different way, because it expressed a depth of connection that Steve could only long for. 

 _They're not just master and slave,_ he realized, _they really are lovers_ , and then Tony was pulling back to eye the thick pole of rigid flesh in front of them with open admiration. 

"Make that a _lot_ of cock," he remarked, "because, wow — three gold stars for German engineering, Erskine was German, right? 

"Indeed, Sir." 

He let go of Jarvis and nodded downward at Steve's legs. "Pants off. And these…" He cupped and squeezed Steve's nut sack while Jarvis followed orders. "Gotta be, what, about a cup of cum in each? Geez, I'll bet you spray like a fire hose. Not that a good boy like you ever masturbates, Steve — I'm talking those nasty nocturnal emissions that you can't —"

 Steve clenched hard fingers into Tony's hair and gave it a painful tug, forcing Tony to look up at him. "Shut your dirty mouth," he growled, but Tony just grinned cheekily.

"Not gonna happen — but maybe if you gave me something to suck on instead…" 

Steve's empty pants and underwear fell to the floor with a tiny _clink_ of loosened metal belt buckle. Jarvis slid back up, stretching out along Steve's right leg and pressing a stiff prick against his shin, rubbing it with refined but insistent friction while his right hand crept over to Tony's groin to close around the hardness inside those black dress pants. Tony's eyelids fell to half-mast, his gaze still fixed on Steve's flushed face as he pushed himself against his slave's palm, and the lust there was so shameless that it roused a flare of combined disgust, fury and fierce delight in Steve's heart, an inferno that burned up the last remnants of his patience. 

 _Dirty sluts,_ he thought savagely, _both of them, filthy little catamites who deserve everything they get —_  

He reached down to run the fingers of his right hand into Jarvis's hair, to get a good grip on both their heads and force them together — and they went at it like they were trying to kiss passionately and his dick had just happened to get in the way. He dragged them wherever he wanted them to go, down to his balls and back up again, all hungry lips and grazing teeth and avid tongues that sometimes clashed when they met over his ball sack or his cockhead, and oh _fuck_ that was about a thousand degrees worth of hot, the way they were both so eager to be used for his pleasure.  

Nor were they entirely passive: Jarvis's free hand was caressing his inner thighs with a smooth silky touch that made the fine hairs stand up on end, and Tony's hand was still cupping and squeezing his testicles, alternately gentle and rough, in a way that made the spunk in them churn harder with every passing second. Within two minutes he was straining on the brink of orgasm, not wanting to go over the edge just yet because the sight of the pair of them between his legs, brunet and blond, rugged and smooth, was an image he wanted to capture and hold forever — but Jarvis's tongue was so sweetly cunning, almost inhuman, and the rasp of Tony's facial hair against his most sensitive flesh was so —  

He moaned, feeling his balls suddenly draw up tight, and when Tony pushed against his hand he loosened his hold, staring helplessly while Tony drew back enough to whisper in Jarvis's ear: "Finish him up, baby, suck and swallow as deep as you can go — just save a little bit for me…" 

Jarvis hummed softly and fitted his lips fully over Steve's cockhead, swirling his tongue around it like he was licking up ice cream before plunging down — and down — to a level that Steve could scarcely believe, fuck, he could actually feel the muscles in his throat, could hear the slight choking sound as he struggled to take all of Steve's thickness —  

And that tiny gasp of struggle was enough to trip Steve over the edge. The whole world went white, the universe contracting to the tight sheath of Jarvis's mouth as he shot again and again, dimly aware that he was groaning and that Jarvis was swallowing and choking more as Steve's hand pressed him down further, and that Tony was quietly exhorting: "Yeah, that's it, give it to him, he can take it…" 

He was pretty sure he sobbed then, before falling back against the mattress with all the breath knocked out of him. For a long span of seconds he just lay there sucking in air, barely retaining enough control to pull Jarvis off his now sensitized prick before both his hands fell limply to his sides, completely conquered. 

"Steve?" It was Tony's voice that called him back from the haze of whole-body satiation. "One more thing…" 

He managed to raise his head. What he saw next was well worth the effort: Jarvis and Tony face to face over his wet erection, Jarvis's swollen lips slightly parted to reveal a tongue painted white, and Tony leaning in to lick and suck the remaining jizz from his mouth with a purr that suggested it was the finest thing he'd tasted in years. 

Deep in Steve's core a beast he'd spent his entire adult life anesthetizing roared to full life. Sluts indeed, without a trace of shame or a shred of dignity… sluts for each other… and more importantly, sluts for _him_. Unrepentant fags who deserved everything they got — 

— and he was the one who was going to give it to them, repeatedly, until they moaned beneath him and begged for the mercy his strength and endurance would never grant. 

[TO BE CONTINUED]


End file.
